


Improviso Praemium

by Dannilovesangst



Series: A senator et eius servi [8]
Category: 2770 ab urbe condita - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Prequel, Recovery, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:55:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28477272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dannilovesangst/pseuds/Dannilovesangst
Summary: In a hole-in-the-wall tavern somewhere in Asia Minor roughly thirty years before the present, a young Roman legionary wins a most unexpected prize from a game of backgammon.Cupido origin story.
Series: A senator et eius servi [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1970992
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28
Collections: 2770 ab urbe condita - the collected fiction





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part of a four part story detailing how Marcus got Cupido. Takes place almost 29 years before Retail Therapy. Marcus was entering his third year of serving with the legions.

**Chapter 1**

Lucius slammed his fist on the table, unimpressed.

“Damn, it Marcus! That was the last of my coin! That was a dirty move.”

Marcus smirked at his opponent, the brute of a Galatian known as Lucius, as he swept his winnings into his coin purse. This was the fourth round straight Marcus had won. Having lost games to other people earlier in the evening, Lucius was getting desperate to win something back. Problem was, he was terrible at games of strategy at the best of times. And being piss drunk didn't help him at all. Marcus was much more sober, though even he was feeling a slight buzz from the alcohol he'd consumed.

“I'll give you a final chance to win your coin back, Lucius. But you have to offer me something of value in case I win again.”

Lucius glared at him. His eyes were red-rimmed.

“What do you want, you bastard?”

Marcus grinned, showing all teeth.

“Whatcha got? Jewellery? A nice house? Heck, I'll even consider a future favour from you or someone you know. But whatever it is, it has to be witnessed and in writing. I don't trust you to keep your word.”

Lucius scowled for a moment, before snapping his fingers at one of his lackeys hovering nearby.

“Bring the boy down.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow.

“Boy?”

“You'll see. You're not getting a favour from me, you bastard. Not after the way you robbed me blind.”

Marcus sat up straighter.

“I robbed no one. I just happened to be better at games then you are. I've won that money fairly. I could leave now, and spare you the humiliation of me winning again. But I'm a fair man. I'll give you one more chance to win. I'll even shout you another drink while we're doing it. Providing whatever it is you're going to offer me is worth it.”

“It's worth it.” Lucius slurred, spittle flying from his lips as he struggled to process what Marcus was saying. “But you won't win again, you bastard. I won't let you. I'll get back all my coin. See if I don't.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow, smirking. Before he could say anything in response, Lucius' men returning caught his attention. They weren't alone. Held between two of them was a skinny figure wearing a threadbare tunic barely long enough to cover the crotch area. They all but dragged the figure over, throwing them down at Lucius' feet.

And by extension, Marcus' feet. This close, Marcus could see the figure was a he. A boy who couldn't have been more than sixteen, wearing a huge metal collar welded onto his neck. A slave then. Marcus wasn't surprised. Slavery was a part of life after all.

However, the longer he looked at this slave, the more anger he felt towards Lucius and his kind. The boy was so thin as to be almost skeletal, his ribs clearly visible even through the tunic. Seriously, what did Lucius feed him? A layer of grime covered his body, and his shoulder-length hair was matted and filthy. For Marcus, who had grown up with slaves, the sight disturbed him more than he'd thought possible. All the slaves owned by his family were well treated. They were fed, clothed, housed. They received regular _peculium_ , and stood a good chance of earning or buying their freedom one day. They – they weren't this skinny creature laying at his feet who didn't take his eyes from the ground.

Realising he'd been staring at the slave for a tad too long, Marcus looked up. Only to see Lucius leering at him.

“See something you like? He's a decent fuck, and doesn't have a bad mouth either. Though I'd recommend gagging him until he knows you're the boss. He's prone to biting. Or you could just remove his teeth.”

Marcus felt sick at the callous words, though the slave at his feet didn't react. It was clear he was desensitised to the situation he found himself in. That, or he didn't have the energy, half-starved as he was.

“Do you not feed him or something? I've never seen a slave so skinny.”

“If he wants food, he has to earn it. And he's currently lost that privilege.”

Marcus' voice was hard.

“For how long?”

“This is the third day. The bitch bit me cock!”

_I don't blame him._ Marcus thought. _I wouldn't mind biting you either, you fucker. That boy is leaving with me. I don't care what I have to do to get him. I'm not leaving him to your abuse any longer. But I have to be careful how I go about this..._

“I thought you said his mouth wasn't bad.”

“It's not. And whip him enough, he keeps his teeth in check. Or what's left of them anyway.”

Lucius cackled. Marcus' eyebrows draw together.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Lucius lent down to grab the matted hair, yanking the youths head up. Marcus couldn't stop the horrified gasp from leaving his mouth as he saw the swollen left cheek and jaw. Dried blood crusted at the corner of the slave's mouth, and the bruising was deep purple.

“What in the name of Minerva did you do to him?”

Lucius kicked at the slave's legs.

“He bit me. I would have pulled out his teeth then and there for it, if I'd been able to find some pliers. Sadly, I couldn't. Had to resort to punching him in the mouth as punishment. The worm hasn't bit me since.”

Marcus stared into the slave's eyes. They were a stunning blue colour, but were empty and bloodshot. His forehead, however, was creased in pain, and he was trembling minutely. These two things told Marcus there was some feeling left in him, that he hadn't been completely broken by these bastards.

He had to get him out of here.

“Fine, Lucius. I accept your wager. He'd better be as good as you say he is though. He certainly isn't in the best condition.”

Lucius cackled, letting go of the hair and allowing the slave's head to drop forward again.

“He's alive, ain't he? That's all he needs to be. Besides. Don't you Roman's have a cult involving almost dead bodies?”

Marcus scowled.

“I have no idea what you mean. I've already said I'll accept the wager. Him against the money I won from you this evening. However, it want it in writing and signed by at least two independent witnesses.”

Lucius scowled.

“You that worried you'll lose? Yo, Alexius! Come here a moment.”

The Galatian waved drunkenly at the tavern keeper, who was busy cleaning glasses behind the bar. Not that they were very clean, if you asked Marcus' opinion. He honestly didn't know why he kept coming back to this place. The drink was barely better then donkey's piss, and the company no better...

Putting aside his glasses, Alexius came over. Seeing the slave boy on the floor, he rolled his eyes.

“What do you want this time, Lucius? I hope you're not planning on offering me a fuck of your boy in payment of your tab this time. Last time was mediocre at best. It was like fucking a dead body. I only accept payment from you in coin now.”

Lucius grinned.

“No worries! I'm 'bout to win enough coin back to pay off my tab tonight. Me friend here and I have a wager going. He wants it to be witnessed. If he wins the next game, he gets the boy. I win, he gives me all the money he has on him.”

Marcus narrowed his eyes. That wasn't the offer. He'd offered Lucius the money he'd won from him back. Not the rest of it. A slight movement from the boy at his feet had him holding his tongue, not disputing the lie. If that's what it took to get the boy away, then so be it. Marcus was confident he'd win anyway. Lucius had lost every single game he'd played against everyone tonight. And he still thought he had a chance of winning one, as piss drunk as he was?

Not likely. But Marcus knew things didn't always go as planned. Hence why he wanted witnesses for the deal. He didn't trust Lucius an inch not to find some loophole, or even just rally his allies to take the boy back.

Or the money. Or even both.

Alexius looked unimpressed.

“Really? Fine. It's witnessed.”

Marcus shook his head.

“Not good enough. I want it in writing. And I want another witness to sign it. Like Lord Chrēstos over there. He's a man of honour who understands a binding legal document.”

The man in question was hardly a lord, but he certainly behaved like one around here. He was dressed in a full Roman toga, which was hung all wrong and looked ridiculous. His father had been a Roman legion, so he considered himself above those who normally inhabited this tavern. Though he'd given Marcus some measure of respect, due to him being part of the legions and a proper Roman. While his honour was debatable, Marcus knew if he witnessed this exchange, it would be harder for Lucius to take retribution against Marcus. Chrēstos had a lot of support in local government after all.

Turning around, Marcus gave Chrēstos a smile and waved.

“Hey, Chrēstos! I need your help for a sec. I'll buy you a drink for your trouble.”

It wasn't like he didn't have money after all. Waving back, Chrēstos heaved himself to his feet and waddled over to their table, his slave scurrying along behind. The toga did nothing to hide his protruding stomach, and as he sat down on the wooden bench, his ample backside hang half off the back. Chrēstos, in addition to having illusions of grandeur, was way too fond of rich food.

“You said something about buying me a drink, Marcus?”

“Yes. If you would witness a deal I'm in the process of making with Lucius, I'll buy you a glass of the wine of your choice! I just need you to sign this document saying you've witnesses this deal and declare it legal and binding.”

Marcus handed him a napkin on which he'd written the terms of the deal with his pen. Unfortunately, he didn't have any paper on him, and he hadn't bought any electronics tonight. But if he could get both Alexius and Chrēstos to sign the document, he could then take Lucius to the local Bureau office and make sure the boy was legally registered as his.

Chrēstos blinked at the document, before looking at Marcus.

“Are you a bloody madman, Marcus? That pile of bones on the floor ain't worth anything. You'd be better counting your winnings and leaving now.”

“Perhaps I would. But I decided to give our friend here one last chance to win his money back. But you understand I can't play without him placing a wager as well.”

Chrēstos snorted as he looked at Lucius.

“And I've always known you were a madman. Fine. I'll sign this crazy bet you've got going. Not my money or slave at stake. And you owe me a whole bottle of wine Marcus.”

“Fine. If you sign, I'll buy you a bottle.” Marcus offered the other man his pen. Chrēstos signed the napkin with his name, handing it back to Marcus.

“I want a bottle of the Cretan red wine.”

It was, naturally, the most expensive wine this hole of a tavern had to offer. Even if it was far from the nicest one around.

“Fair enough. Alexius, once you sign this, I trust you can take care of what my guest wants?”

The tavern keeper rolled his eyes as he signed the napkin.

“You're all quite mad. I'll get you your wine, Lord Chrēstos. Are you staying at this table?”

“I think I will. I'll make sure no one's caught cheating.”

_Like I have to cheat, playing against someone as hopeless at games as Lucius._ Marcus thought. _But I better play the best game I've ever played. I don't care about losing the money, but the poor boy's life is at stake if I don't win..._


	2. Chapter 2

Lucius cursed. Both fists slammed down on the table this time, causing several of the gaming pieces to topple over.

“Damn it! You bastard!”

Marcus didn't stir.

“I won. Fair and square. Didn't I, Lord Chrēstos?”

The fat man nodded. He'd been drinking straight out of the bottle of wine Marcus had bought for him in exchange for witnessing their bet.

“I didn't see any cheating. Just Lucius playing a very bad game of backgammon. And losing. Guess that bag of bones on the floor is yours now, Marcus.”

Chrēstos cackled. He'd drunk more than three quarters of the wine bottle during their game, and hadn't been terribly coherent to begin with. Lucius scowled so hard his bushy eyebrows practically met his hairline, before his voice took on a whiny edge.

“'ang on a sec, Marc. You can't leave me broke like this, without even a slave to comfort me! That would be dishonourable for a Roman to do!”

Marcus rolled his eyes.

“If you think that, you clearly have no idea of true Roman honour, Lucius. Should I have a reason to doubt Galatian honour? You lost. I won. We have a deal. Simple as that.”

Lucius was rather red in the face, both from the alcohol and the circumstances. Glancing at the boy on the floor, Marcus decided saving a life was more important then maintaining his image.

After this, he wasn't planning to ever come here again anyway. And he didn't want to give Lucius or his supporters any chance to come after him.

“But...tell you what. I'm a compassionate man, and it is the Saturnalia. I don't like the thought of leaving you here without even a way to pay for your drinks.” Marcus put on a fake look of pity. “So I'll make you another deal. I'll settle your debts with Alexius. All of them. I know you've run up quite a tab. In return, you come with me to the local Slave Bureau Office tonight and sign this boy over to me. There will be someone there to witness it. Not that I'm doubting you acquired him honestly, but I don't want to be accused of kidnapping.”

_And I do want to make sure the boy is actually registered. Despite what I say, I wouldn't put it past you to do anything you thought you could get away with, you slimy snake. I don't even know why I keep coming back here. But no more._

Lucius blinked at Marcus.

“You'll settle my whole tab with Alexius?”

Marcus nodded.

“Yes. Your whole outlandish tab. Then we go to the Bureau and register me as this boy's new owner. It's a better deal then most would offer.”

Lucius blinked. Chrēstos lowered his wine bottle, staring at Marcus, mouth open.

“You'll really pay this weasel's whole tab? But he lost!”

“He did. But I don't want to completely humiliate him. We Romans understand honour, despite what people say. Do we have a deal, Lucius?”

The other man blinked quite a bit as he processed what was happening.

“If you're going to pay my tab...yes. Yes we do.”

Marcus waved Alexius over.

“How much does Lucius owe on his tab?”

Alexius looked down his nose.

“Enough that I will soon be sending the debt collectors after him if he doesn't start winning something. Even the amount you won tonight won't pay it all off, I'm afraid. He owes me hundreds of sestercii.”

Marcus was calm.

“Bring me a tabula.” Giving Marcus a long look, Alexius did so. Pulling up Lucius' tab, he handed it to Marcus with a smirk.

“You still want to pay it?”

Or course he'd been eavesdropping on the conversation. Marcus pursed his lips at the debt Lucius had drunk himself into. Made him wonder why Alexius still served him. Though the tavern keeper was as crooked as the rest of them, so he must have his reasons. Lucius did have contacts, as crappy as they were. And it wasn't like Marcus couldn't afford the tab. Not that the man deserved it. But the boy definitely didn't deserve this life, and Marcus didn't want to risk anything coming back to bite him in the future.

“I'll pay it. But you are coming with me to the Bureau tonight to sign the boy over, Lucius. As soon as this is paid. It's the least you can do.”

Lucius nodded feverishly. He looked in shock.

“I will do that. You're a true friend, Marcus.”

As if. Applying his thumb to the scanner, Marcus authorised the transfer of funds from his personal account to Alexius'. It took a few moments as his details were certified, but then a green tick popped up on the screen, indicating success. Alexius looked at it in stunned shock for a moment.

“You are one lucky bastard, Lucius.”

Marcus got up. Picking up his cloak, he knelt next to the boy still huddled on the floor at his feet, draping the thick fabric carefully over him. Above him, Lucius snorted.

“If I didn't know better, I'd think you cared.”

Marcus gave Lucius an unimpressed look. Of course he cared! The boy was a human being like they were, and deserved to be treated like it. Not that Lucius would understand that. Or care.

Marcus glared.

“After the amount of money I just spent squaring up your debt, I don't want my new slave to die of exposure before I can get him home. Of course I bloody care! I care about getting him home in one piece, you lout.”

“He won't die. Not that one. He's too stubborn.”

Marcus looked at the boy, who was still huddled submissively on the floor, but had reached out to grip the cloak now draped around his shoulders. The action gave Marcus hope there would be something worth salvaging left in this poor boy.

“I don't want to take my chances. Now, Lucius. We have an appointment at the Slave Bureau Office. Best do it while he's still alive, before I reconsider the deal.”

It was a crass thing to say about the poor boy, but Marcus knew he had to play his cards right here. Once the boy was his, none of these bastards would have any power to question anything he decided to do. But he needed to get the ownership transfer into the system as fast as possible, and he didn't trust any of the tabulae here not to be tampered with in some way.

Lucius heaved himself to his feet, swaying drunkenly for a moment before a couple of his lackeys hurried forward to steady him.

“Er. Why is the world spinning?”

Ignoring the drunk man, Marcus slipped his hands under the slave's knees and shoulders, picking him up. Despite his skeletal appearance, he was surprisingly heavy. There must be some weight somewhere on him then.

Lucius, now propped up with a lackey on either side of him, blinked.

“He's capable of walking. Do the bastard good.”

Marcus rolled his eyes as they turned to go.

“I don't want his feet freezing off before I get him home. It's snowing outside, in case you hadn't noticed.” Quietly, so only the boy could hear, he added as they headed towards the door. “Don't worry, lad. I won't hurt you. But I have to keep up appearances with these louts until you're officially mine.”

The boy gave no verbal reaction, but Marcus thought he felt him relax slightly against his chest. After making sure the boy was wrapped snugly in the cloak, Marcus stepped outside. Lucius staggered behind him as he led the way up the street to the Bureau of Slave Administration for these parts. The office in this town was open twenty-four hours seven days a week to help prevent kidnappings and illegal slavery. Not that Marcus thought made any real difference, but he wanted to make sure _he_ kept on the right side of the law.

**...**

To Marcus' relief, the boy was registered in the system as a slave. At least he wasn't dealing with a kidnapping. There wasn't many details on him, not much more then his fingerprints and an ID number. No name even. But that was enough for Marcus to officially claim ownership. Lucius was so drunk Marcus was sure he hadn't truly been aware what was happening, but he'd nonetheless pressed his finger to the scanner when told to. Once the ownership transfer was complete, Marcus had left, leaving Lucius to be dealt with by his lackeys and the Bureau security.

Heading back to the army barracks situated on the edge of town (which was actually just one street over from the Bureau offices, bloody small towns), Marcus spoke gently to the boy.

“It will be okay. I'm not going to do whatever it was your previous Master did to you. Lucius is a right idiot, and I really shouldn't be surprised he abused his slave.” Marcus sighed. “But you are mine now, and I will look after you. I don't know how much you heard of our conversation, but I'm currently serving with the legions here. We are going back to the camp now. Once we arrive, I will be getting a doctor to take a look at you. Then I need to see about removing that collar. My friends aren't cruel, and I will be there the whole time. There is no need to panic, okay sweetie?”

There was no verbal reply, but Marcus knew it wasn't his imagination that the boy was now cuddling into him even more. He was shivering with cold (and probably pain) but he at least seemed to be fairly alert. Still not speaking, but who could blame him with his mouth as swollen as it was...

**...**

The chief medic, Cassius Valerius Drusus, looked up as hurried footsteps entered the infirmary, heading towards his office. He wondered what idiot had managed to hurt themselves now. As most of the men were off duty celebrating the Saturnalia and he currently had no patients in residence, he'd decided tonight was a perfect time to catch up on paperwork. At least, that had been the plan. Trust some idiot to have done something stupid that needed medical attention.

He was no expecting Marcus Aemilius to enter his office carrying another human being. One who, frankly, looked more dead then alive.

Jumping up from behind his desk, Cassius spoke in shock.

“By the gods, Marcus. What have you got there?!?”

“A boy. I won him. He needs urgent medical attention.”

Cassius grimaced.

“I don't want to know the details. Here follow me. Does he talk? Put him over here”

“He hasn't said a word to me yet, but that could be because his mouth is bruised and swollen.”

Marcus carefully laid the boy on the bed Cassius indicated out in the main infirmary ward. Or tried to. As soon as he made to put him down, his new slave let out a pitiful whimper and clung to Marcus. Cassius' lips tightened.

“You can hold him. I am going to have to see him naked though. I need to make sure he doesn't have any injuries that aren't visible. By the great Aesculapius. What happened to his face?”

“He was punched in the mouth. Three days ago, I think it was.”

Cassius cursed. The ugly iron collar fastened around the slave's neck didn't help his mood.

“Poor boy. It's okay, lad. Marcus. Do I have your permission to give him something to calm him down and numb the pain before I examine him?”

Marcus nodded soberly.

“You do. I – I don't want him to hurt more then needed.”

Cassius rapidly moved away to retrieve what he needed, returning soon with the needle and a syringe filled with an almost clear liquid.

“There's a good lad. Can I have one of your arms? I need to give you something to dull the pain.”

After a beat, the boy shakily snaked a skinny arm out from under the cloak, before burying his face in Marcus' chest again. Cassius spoke soothingly.

“Good boy. This shouldn't hurt too much, and then things will go numb.”

The slave didn't react to the alcohol swab cleaning the area, or to the needle piercing his skin. Nor did he give any reaction when the contents of the syringe were injected. His breathing was jerky and rugged, but otherwise he didn't move, not even to flinch.

“We'll leave it for ten minutes or so to give the meds time to kick in. In the meantime, how old is he, Marcus?”

“There was no birth date listed on his file.”

Cassius blinked.

“Okay. What about his registration number? I assume he'd got one?”

“He has. But I didn't check.”

Cassius moved away, returning in a couple of minutes with a tabula.

“Would you mind accessing the record so I can check?”

Shifting the boy pressing up against him slightly, Marcus took the tabula. A fingerprint and a few taps had the boy's record on the screen. Handing it to Cassius to look at, Marcus was pleased to note his boy wasn't as tense as he had been. The medication was obviously working.

Taking the tabula back, Cassius muttered in annoyance.

“I don't know how people can get away with such shoddy record keeping. In Rome, if you tried this, you'd be slapped with fines and who knows what else. Bloody provinces.”

Cassius looked up.

“His birth date is recorded as the first of January in the year two-thousand seven-hundred and twenty-seven. In the ID number anyway. That would make him...” Cassius did some maths in his head. “Fifteen. Sixteen in about a week. Do you know his name?”

Marcus shook his head.

“No.”

“I don't like calling him boy, but there's not much else I can do. Galatia is listed as the province of his registration.”

Marcus nodded, wrinkling up his nose. After perusing the scant information available on Marcus' new slave, Cassius sighed, putting the tabula down.

“I think the medication should have kicked in enough for an examination not to hurt if I'm gentle. Can you unwrap him, Marcus? He seems to trust you.”


	3. Chapter 3

Marcus nodded at Cassius' request, gently folding his cloak away from the boy. While not exactly warm in the infirmary, it certainly wasn't cold. Not like it was outside. The medication had definitely kicked in, his slave making no protest as the cloak was removed. Once he was wearing only the short threadbare tunic (and that awful collar) Cassius' eyebrows went up.

“He's circumcised.”

Marcus looked at Cassius in confusion.

“He's what?”

The doctor rolled his eyes.

“His foreskin has been cut off. It's called circumcision. Generally considered barbaric among Romans, it's nonetheless common among certain religious groups. He's not the first, slave or free, I've met out here to have it done.”

Marcus frowned.

“Why would anyone do that?”

Cassius shrugged.

“Apart from it being a requirement in certain religious groups, aesthetic? For some. I really don't know. I personally find it rather ugly. Can you remove his tunic so I can see him properly to make sure he'd not injured more?”

Marcus nodded, carefully shifting the boy and pulling the tunic off. Literally pulling it off. It was so thin and worn, as soon as he tugged at it, the material ripped in half. Marcus blinked.

“Well. I guess that's not salvageable.”

Cassius scowled.

“Whoever put him in this state deserved to be shot. Let's have a look at you, lad. Get you fixed up and healthy again.”

Examining the boy was tricky with the way he was draped over Marcus, but Cassius managed. He left his face and mouth alone for now, making sure nothing else needed his immediate attention. While the boy was a bag of bones, and his face was one big bruise, thankfully there didn't seem to be anything else major wrong with him. He was covered in bruises, but had no broken bones, and the circumcision was old. While he'd obviously been fucked recently and his arsehole was torn, there didn't appear to be any infection or inflammation there. It was healing by itself. He had ugly purple bruises on his neck from the collar, and it had rubbed him raw, but nothing that wouldn't heal once they got that blasted thing off. Apart from being underweight to the point of starvation, there wasn't anything seriously wrong with his body time wouldn't fix. In fact, he had a rather well developed frame and bone structure that when filled out would look quite good.

Marcus was a lucky bastard the boy didn't appear to have some horrible disease. Though he would have to still run tests to make sure he wasn't infected.

“Nothing here that needs immediate attention. Okay, lad. Let's look at your mouth.”

Pulling on some gloves, Cassius slowly reached for the boy's head, talking softly the whole time. He needn't have been so careful. While his eyes were open, they were glazed over, and it was obvious the slave's mind was elsewhere. Which was good for him.

Probing gently at the bruises, Cassius tapped gently on his lips to encourage the boy to open his mouth. Which he did.

Cassius cursed.

“By Jupiter's traitorous cock! The punch you said he received shattered half his teeth!”

Marcus' grip on the boy tightened. As did the line of his mouth.

“Bastards. The lot of them.”

Cassius gently closed the boy's mouth, stepping back.

“This is beyond my expertise to fix. We need a dental surgeon for this. Probably going to have to remove some of his teeth. If he were a free person, I'd take him to the nearest intensive care unit and leave him with them.” Cassius sighed, shoulders drooping. “But they won't accept a slave. Especially one who looks as half-dead as he does.”

Marcus' eyes were cold and hard.

“What can be done to fix him, Cassius? Expense is not an issue.”

The surgeon ran a hand through his short hair.

“I'll have to get a dental surgeon in to examine him, which may not happen for a few days. It being the middle of Saturnalia and all. And then we'll have to put him under to remove the shattered teeth. I – can't guarantee he'll survive, Marcus. His mouth is infected pretty bad. He needs to stay here until then, hooked to an IV, so I can get antibiotics and fluids into him. There's no way he can eat anything with a mouth that damaged. How long ago did you say it happened?”

“I was told three days.”

Cassius winced.

“And I'll add some liquid nutrients to the IV as well. He's really too skinny to even risk a surgery, but we don't have a lot of options. Those teeth need to come out. I will do what I can, Marcus, but I can't – I can't guarantee he'll survive any of this. I'm sorry.”

Marcus' eyes were full of pain.

“I'm a soldier, Cassius. I understand how injuries can kill. Just do what you have to to give him the best chance of survival you can.”

Cassius placed a hand on Marcus' shoulder.

“I will do that, Marcus. You've been a good friend. And the poor boy...”

Cassius sighed, removing his hand.

“Do you think he'll stay on this bed? I want him here in the infirmary where I can keep an eye on him.”

“He will if I tell him to.”

Marcus seemed very sure of his words. Given how the boy had panicked when Marcus had tried to put him down earlier, Cassius personally had his doubts.

But the boy belonged to Marcus. It was up to him how he wanted to handle his property.

Tenderly pushing back the matted hair hanging over the boy's eyes, Marcus spoke to him gently.

“Sweetie, I know this is all scary and strange, but I need you to stay on this bed and do whatever the surgeon tells you to, okay? He'll help you get better, so long as you do what he says.”

Watching the tender way Marcus handled the abused lad bought a surprising lump to Cassius' throat. He wouldn't consider himself a soft man. Fair, yes, but with an iron will and capable of doing whatever needed to be done without faltering. But seeing the gentle way Marcus spoke to the boy, and how the lad obviously listened and wasn't scared of Marcus...

Well. Cassius would have to have been a sociopath to not feel something.

When Marcus finished talking, Cassius watched the lad think for a moment, before he gave a short nod. Looking up at the surgeon, Marcus' eyes were bright, but clear.

“He won't give you any trouble. He's just scared. I would like to go and clean him up while you get ready here, but can we remove the collar first?”

Cassius pursed his lips.

“We'll need the blacksmith. It's welded on. I'll call him up. You can use the infirmary bathroom over there. I'll let Claudius in when he arrives, but otherwise no one else will disturb you.

Marcus nodded gratefully at the him, eyes on his boy's closed eyes.

“Thank you, Cassius. Come on, my sweet. Let's get you clean.”

**…**

Once in the bathroom, Marcus carefully sat the boy down on a towel on the closed seat of the toilet, before setting about running a warm bath. The boy had slumped back against the wall, closing his eyes while he did it. At that moment, with the matted hair, swollen face, and the awful collar riveted around his neck, he looked much older then almost sixteen. Older, yet somehow younger as well. Marcus swallowed, making sure the bath was pleasantly warm. He'd just got it to an almost perfect temperature, when a knock on the door caused him to jump.

“Marcus? Cassius said you needed me to remove a collar on a slave you just bought?”

Claudius.

“Yes. Come in.”

As soon as the blacksmith entered, Marcus made eye contact.

“Can you get this thing off?”

Keeping a hand wrapped around the boy's shoulders (he really need a proper name) Marcus gestured to the collar. Following his hand, Claudius cursed.

“By the arse of Mars. Who put that thing on him?”

“Nasty people. I need it off.”

Claudius frowned, assessing the iron monstrosity around the boy's slender neck.

“I'm going to have to cut through it. He'll need to stay very still...damn Jupiter. His hair is awful.”

Marcus nodded.

“I – yes. I'm not even sure it's worth trying to untangle.”

“I can bring in an electronic razor. I think shaving it off will be the best thing to do.” Claudius looked at the way the boy was leaning into Marcus. “Probably cause the least pain too. You'll have to tell me the story behind this some time, Marcus.”

“There isn't a story to tell. I won him from some drunk scum on a bet.”

Claudius rolled his eyes.

“With you, there's ALWAYS a story. I'll be back in a moment.”

Actually removing the collar went a lot smoother than Marcus had thought it would. While it was big and ugly, it was also made of very cheap metal that didn't stand a chance against Claudius' sturdy pliers. It was soon in two pieces, leaving the lad's throat and neck bare. Despite how woozy he was from the drugs, the boy stirred enough to weakly lift a hand and feel his now bare throat. Letting out a shuddering breath, he slumped back against Marcus. The relief was palpable.

Putting an arm around his boy, Marcus nodded to Claudius.

“I'll take it from here. Thank you.”

Claudius left without saying another word, taking the pieces of collar with him. Marcus picked up the electronic razor he'd left, speaking calmly to his boy.

“This will not hurt, but I am going to shave off your hair. It's too matted to do anything with. It will grow again. Are you ready?”

After a beat, the boy gave a short nod, closing his eyes. He didn't move as Marcus ran the blade over his head, great clumps of matted knots falling to the floor. He'd hoped he wouldn't have to cut off too much, but the knots went so deep, by the time he'd removed them all, the boy was basically bald.

And mostly asleep. He didn't react when Marcus turned off the razor. Sighing, Marcus placed it on the sink and gently scooped the boy up.

“Let's get you cleaned up, then you can sleep.”

The boy stirred when Marcus lowered him into the still warm bath, blinking at the water, before hesitantly reaching out a shaking hand to touch it. Despite his poor physical condition and Marcus' earlier misgivings, he was still very much alive. Which was a relief. He was just exhausted, starved, and in pain. Well, the last one not so much now, the drugs having done their job.

“Good boy. Have you ever had a bath before?”

A slow blink, then a short nod. Marcus smiled gently.

“As you're so woozy, I will clean you up. You just have to lay there and let me take care of you, okay? You're safe with me. I promise.”

Marcus kept up a steady stream of chatter, talking about nothing in particular as he washed his boy. It was slow going because of both the protruding bones, and the scratches and bruises. Not wanting to rub too hard on the beaten body made cleaning him take a long time. The lad laid there in the warm water, allowing Marcus to touch him and position his body as he pleased. He barely reacted to anything, even when Marcus gently washed the dirt off his bum, mindful of the damage to his hole Cassius had catalogued. Marcus was extra careful with his poor swollen face, wetting the edge of a soft wash cloth and gently dabbing at the dirt. He wasn't able to get it all off, but it was a definite improvement.

“You need a name, my sweet one.”

Blue eyes looked into hazel ones briefly, before the gaze was lowered in submission. Pulling the plug, Marcus waited until most of the water had drained away before lifting his boy out of the bath. Setting him down on the toilet seat again, he bundled him up in soft towels.

“I know you can't talk at present, so I'll give you a name for now. We can always change it later if you don't like it. Is that okay?”

After a beat, the boy nodded, eyes fixed on the ground. As much as he could anyway. They still had a glazed look to them, and he didn't move any part of his body unless prompted, but he was at least clean now. Well, cleaner at least.

But he still needed a name. Carrying him back out into the infirmary to lay him on the bed Cassius had prepared, tucking him in under all the blankets and sheets to keep him warm, Marcus thought hard as he watched the doctor set up the IV. The boy was as good as gold, not even flinching when the needle slid into his vein. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Marcus held his other hand as Cassius set up the the bag of antibiotics and nutrients to flow into his bloodstream. Watching the boy's pale skin contrast with the grey pillows, Marcus suddenly knew what he wanted to call his boy.

“Cupido.”

The boy opened his eyes, giving Marcus a questioning look. Cassius glanced up from the tabula he was making notes on.

“Pardon, Marcus?”

“It's his name. Cupido. Named after the god Cupid. It suits him, don't you think Cassius?”

The surgeon's head was already back in his notes, but he nodded absently.

“Whatever. He is yours.”

Marcus looked at the boy, no, at Cupido. The young slave looked to be on the verge of passing out, but before he lost the battle with consciousness...

“Is it okay if I call you Cupido? You're beautiful like him.”

For a split second, Marcus was sure Cupido's whole expression shifted as he gave a single nod. No longer the beaten and starved slave, the soldier swore he saw a glimpse of something else in those blue eyes. Someone else. Then it was gone, replaced by the exhaustion from before.

Marcus couldn't stop himself from leaning over and gently kissing Cupido's forehead, squeezing his hand as he did so.

“Sleep, my Cupido, and regain your strength. I won't let anyone hurt you like this ever again.”


	4. Chapter 4

_Epilogue_

Rome was nothing like any place Cupido had ever seen. The airport had been huge and impressive enough, but stepping outside into Roma proper was another experience entirely. Everything was so big, bright, and there were so many people around, all dressed in the Roman style. It was completely different to anywhere he'd been in Anatolia. Even the airports there didn't compare to this.

“Come on, Cupido. My father sent a car for us, though it'll only take us as far as the outer city limits. We'll get a rickshaw from there to the Domus.”

Shifting Marcus' bag to a more comfortable position on his shoulders, Cupido kept his head down, following close on the heels of his _Dominus_. While he'd only belonged to the man for four months, Cupido couldn't image being anywhere else now.

Obediently climbing into the car after his master, closing the door behind him, Cupido's tongue absently felt the empty space in his mouth. The surgeons had had to completely remove three of his teeth, but had managed to save the roots of the other damaged ones. Marcus intended to get him implants and re-constructive surgery to fix them once he was strong enough for the operation. The abuse and starvation he'd suffered under that beast Lucius would take more than four months for his body to recover from.

“If you thought the airport was impressive, wait until we get into the city.” Marcus smiled, his eyes shining at being back in his home city, even if this visit would be a brief one. “It's magnificent. The jewel city sitting in the centre of the world. Or at least the Empire. Once, it was said all roads led to Rome. I guess you could now say all flights land in Rome.”

Marcus chuckled at his own humour. Cupido's lips twitched, before he remembered his training and lowered his head.

“As you say, _Dominus_.”

“Don't give me that.” Reaching over, Marcus tenderly laid a hand on the right side of Cupido's face, encouraging his slave to look at him properly. “I – this is your home too now. If you would like it to be. Once I finish my service in the legions, I will be moving back here, to pursue a career in the Senate. Like my father did, and my grandfather, and his father before him. I will be the fifth generation straight of Aemilii to sit on the Senate of Rome. I want you by my side when it happens.”

Cupido swallowed.

“You do?”

“Yes.” Marcus smiled warmly at him. “I love you, Cupido. How could I not, when, despite the horrible things that have happened to you, you are so sweet, obedient and loyal? And very good looking to boot.” Cupido's cheeks coloured as Marcus continued with a grin. “It's true. I – maybe one day, when you are recovered, I may even be able to prove it to you.”

“I-I will welcome whatever you decide to do to me, _Dominus_.”

His Master hummed, before ruffling a hand through his short hair.

“It seems to be growing out okay. How does it feel?”

“It's not as prickly as it was before, _Dominus_.”

“Good, good. Is tacking Dominus on the end of every sentence part of your training?”

Cupido nodded slowly.

“Yes, _Dominus_. I – it was disrespectful not to.”

“I don't see it is, but I can't say I don't like it.” Marcus' eyes strayed to the delicate metal collar locked around Cupido's neck, which he'd placed there before leaving to catch their flight. “I don't like that however. It looks wrong. Here. Let me remove it.”

Cupido swallowed.

“I – please don't? At least not until we are at your house. I – I don't want to get lost.”

Marcus' paused, looking at him reluctantly.

“Are you sure?”

Cupido nodded, his own hand straying up to brush over the metal links of the collar.

“It – it shows I'm owned. That someone cares about me, that they bought me such an expensive collar. I – where I came from, only favoured pleasure slaves, courtesans or highly trusted slaves, wore anything this fine. It was a mark of their rank.”

His master looked pained.

“It's a basic chain-link collar. The type that is worn day-to-day by many slaves all over the Empire. I wish I'd killed Lucius. Or at least not paid his bloody tab.”

Cupido raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, he's probably got another one just as high already. Providing he's still alive. In the ten months I was with him, I thought many times he was going to die of alcohol poisoning. Wished he would. Prayed to Mithras to make it so. Anything to get out of that situation. Then my prayers were answered. You came along.”

“You worship Mithras?”

Cupido shrugged.

“I don't know much about anyone else.”

Marcus shook his head as he stared pensively out the window as the car stopped.

“You are so much older then sixteen.”

Cupido didn't get a chance to reply before he was caught up in the confusion of keeping up with his master while keeping hold of his bags. More familiar with how things worked here, Marcus soon found them a rickshaw into the city, and paid the fare. Once they were settled inside, the bags stowed safely away in the designated compartment behind, Marcus spoke.

“Not long until we're home now. Ah, how I've missed it!”

Looking around as they went through the city, Cupido was glad they weren't walking. The streets were packed with people, all a yelling, seething, chatting mass. Moving a little closer to his Master, needing the reassurance he was safe, Cupido kept his head down. That didn't mean he wasn't taking in everything happening around then, however. It just meant he was being subtle about watching. Marcus squeezed his hand.

“You'll be okay, Cupido. This part of the city is crazy. The residential area where my family's house is located is much quieter. And I'll make sure you don't go out alone until you know your way home at least. Though there may not be time to go out much. I only have a week's leave, and we've already used some of it travelling. But it's my mother's birthday, and I had some leave owed.”

Cupido just nodded obediently. Like it mattered to him why they were here. He went where his Master went. Did what Marcus told him to. He'd been a slave for as long as he could remember, and that was how a good slave behaved. And he tried to be a good slave.

As they travelled through the streets of Rome, his master pointed out certain landmarks and attractions. He was clearly delighted to be back, and it was obvious to Cupido this city was the soldier's home. As the crowds thinned out and the houses became larger and more ornate, Marcus got more and more excited. Eventually, they almost had the road to themselves, apart from a few slaves and citizens walking around.

Many of the citizens wore the togas with the purple stripes Cupido knew marked them out as senators. Which wasn't surprising, especially not in this neighbourhood. His own master came from a line of senators, his father was currently a senator, and he planned on becoming one himself one day. And he wanted Cupido there by his side when it happened. Wanted a fuck-toy from the provinces to stand beside one of the most respected senator's in Rome, at least by virtual of his name. The Aemillii were an ancient family who was very proud that they could trace their bloodline back to the time of the first Empire.

The rickshaw stopped as he was thinking these things. Marcus cheerfully jumped out before running to hug a older woman who was standing in the doorway to a large Domus, smiling.

“Mater!”

Several slaves hurried to unload the few bags and take them inside, and Cupido soon found himself standing on the street near his master with no idea what to do. Glancing at his master as he started heading inside, Cupido saw his _Dominus_ look back at him with a frown.

“Cupido? Aren't you coming in?”

Cupido needed no further invitation to follow. Entering the Domus, he stopped and blinked. He'd thought the outside of the house was impressive; but the inside atrium alone was the size of an entire house shared by several families in Anatolia. It seemed everything in Rome was big. At least it was if you had money.

“So, this is the boy you bought? He doesn't look as bad as you made it sound.”

It was the woman talking. Her voice was soft and pleasant as she looked Cupido over. His master snorted.

“Yes, Mater. This is Cupido. He's recovering very well, and certainly looks heaps better then he did four months ago. He isn't normally this rude. He's just never seen anything like Rome before.”

Realising his mistake, Cupido slid to his knees, lowering his head obediently. The lady sighed.

“It's okay, lad. The house is huge, I know. Marcus told me what happened to you before he got you. I can assure you we don't do anything like that to slaves in our household. And, belonging to my son, you are now a part of it. I'm sure Marcus will want to show you around himself.”

She turned to her son.

“Do we need to bring an extra bed to your room? Or will he stay in the slave quarters with the others?”

“Extra bed please, Mater. Where's Pater?”

“Your father had to go to a meeting with several other senators to discuss some things that came up unexpectedly. He hopes to be home by mid-afternoon. If he's not, he'll definitely be home for Cena. So tell me. How is life with the legions going?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mater - mother  
> Pater - father

**Author's Note:**

> Improviso Praemium - unexpected reward/prize. I think. Titles are the bane of my existence. it will do.


End file.
